The Many Splintered Road
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: There's so many ways that the Warriors' story could have turned out different. So many forks in the road. Here's snippets of what could have happened.


_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing._

_**Author Note**__: Thanks and love to Anthony for introducing me to this film. Enjoy :)_

_

* * *

_

**THE MANY SPLINTERED ROAD**

There's many stories about the Warriors, Coney Island's best. How with just a slip of the needle, they could have ended up in a whole different groove. So many ways their story could have ended. Just think about it, boppers, just think about that big old beautiful night, when the rain was slick on the concrete and the only lights were cops and robbers and knives and teeth in the velvet black.

Think about it.

* * *

The ground cradled the gangs like children. Sweaty, wound-up, bustin' for a fight children. Fox was feeling it especially, all the way through to his bones. Worse, the sweat down his back was making his skin itch and the turf was so packed he could hardly see Cyrus. Fox had heard things about Cyrus. Things worth traveling from Coney for. Magic things.

He was about to take a step into the crowd to get a better look when a gloved hand pinched his shoulder real tight and Ajax jerked him back so hard that Fox almost hit the ground. What the fuck...?

"You think any one of these faggots is really unarmed?" Ajax hissed and sneered. "First chance they get its game on and we're getting some action."

"Stay close." That was Swan, his voice carrying from the other side of the group.

Fox wrestled out of Ajax's grip. Ajax made to slap him around the head, but Fox dodged, getting in a shot of his own. Ajax was gonna pay for that, man. Cochise laughed, a pearly white grin in the darkness that Vermin echoed. Cowboy was cheering at something Cyrus had said. Cleon fixed his eyes on Fox and Fox nodded sulkily with a final glare at Ajax. Stay put, he got it.

Damn. The guy in purple and black was still spoiling his view. Fox shifted on his feet. But he stayed where he was. Cyrus's hypnotic voice and message soon rooted him to the spot anyway. Ajax was the only one that looked unimpressed.

And when somebody shot Cyrus, no one saw the gunman.

* * *

"You gots the gun, right?"

"I thought the vibe was unarmed?"

"Like that fucking matters! Guns is guns, we pack the heat in our boots where the Riffs won't see. Just one piece. You never know when the party needs livening up."

There was silence except for the snorting rumble of the Rogues' vehicle. Until Luther exploded again.

"Whose got the fucking gun?"

* * *

The Warriors pass through the Orphans territory unharmed. There's no Mercy taunting them from her high road, legs bruised and dirty and shoes too tight. She doesn't walk a crooked line beside them.

Swan never knows what he's missing. He barely makes it back to Coney.

* * *

The train tears past the station, taking the cop with it. Mercy's halfway up the stairs, because there's more cops coming, when there's a gasp and Fox pulls himself up onto the platform. There's blood all over his face and one hand is mashed badly. Mercy hauls him to his feet.

"Run!"

They don't stop until they reach the cool shade of dark quiet trees, a sliver of silent empty park. Mercy tears off a strip of her skirt and ties his hand up, what's left of it. It ain't pretty at all and it hurts like a fucking bitch.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"Oh, you're a real tough guy, aren't you?"

"Fuck you."

Mercy presses spiteful and hard against his damaged skin and bone. Fox yells and knocks her sideways, but then yanks her into the shadows beside him when he hears laughing voices and footsteps. Moments later a ragged gang in hats and denim appears. This is no fucking joke.

"Shut up and follow me, okay?"

"So you can bleed some more and lead them right to us? Forget it."

"Fine. You want to do it alone?"

They fight most of the way. But they find a train. They make it to Coney Island.

* * *

Or maybe Mercy doesn't stop. She keeps on running, running from the cops and their search for a girl in a pink top. There's no one around when Fox finally drags himself up off the rails. He's breathing hard, his blood painting the concrete. He cradles his mangled hand. Fuck. He runs, like torchlight in the dark.

Where the Riffs call home isn't so far away. He saw who murdered Cyrus and it wasn't the Warriors. He can get the message out, save his brothers, if he can just maybe make it that far.

Time slides by in drops of blood.

* * *

The Lizzies don't take prisoners. They have a good time and bare their teeth, weapons hidden under smiles and dancing and hungry lips. It's what they do for fun and for turf and honor.

It's too late for the Warriors. No one notices the trap until it's sprung and blood is spilled and screams and gunfire puncture the music. The Lizzies sleep well, delivering three nice pliable prisoners, half-dead already, to the Riffs. Swan, Mercy, Cowboy, and Snow are on their own.

* * *

Ajax is a prick. This is true. And he's all kinds of pent-up after the night he's lived through. So that nice piece of ass sitting so ready on the bench is exactly what he needs. Looks like she needs him too.

But the Warriors disagree. Swan gives him one of his fucking martyr looks, like he's looking down on Ajax from a place way up high and Ajax is an asshole for the limited view he's getting. Who gives a fuck?

"There's plenty on Coney," Cochise reminds him.

Rembrant's looking pathetic and Cowboy's shaking his head, like he can't believe what a jackass Ajax is. Ajax's got his fists ready. His blood is more than up, man, it's boiling. He deserves this. Fucking right he does.

The babe is looking at him now. She's all kinds of wanting.

But then there's a shout. Someone's coming over the hill, aiming a piece. And Ajax is with his brothers. He hasn't got a choice anymore.

* * *

At the shoreline, Swann isn't the one left standing. Mercy stumbles, horror shaping her mouth and scream. The Rogues crowd in bodily and violent around them. Cochise and Vermin fight back to back. Cowboy's wide-eyed and shocked and shouting, all the while smacking at anybody grabbing his hat. Snow is silent and vicious.

Swan stares out at the sea and nothing. He's finally home.

Luther's got his gun and he's laughing, crowing like the king of the fucking universe. He lets them fight. He takes his time aiming.

* * *

Maybe there's a place where Cowboy doesn't need a helping hand and doesn't wear a hat. Or Fox stays in his bolthole and never ventures out of Coney. Ajax fights and doesn't spit words and gets the girl in the end. Snow melts away until all that's left is burning smoke. Vermin runs out of words and takes to writing them instead, filling books until he forgets how to speak. They give money and awards for that. Rembrant's a leader with his hair in cornrows and his arms wrapped in tattoos. Cleon wears a suit to work and his pockets clack with bones. He survives.

Swan takes flight and takes Mercy with him. They walk out of Coney together and they don't go back.

Maybe

Maybe somewhere.

_-the end_


End file.
